


Little Lemon Drops

by Sandy_Cleegs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6950197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandy_Cleegs/pseuds/Sandy_Cleegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is the proud owner and operator of a daycare. When she needs a little construction done, who will she call?</p><p>For a prompt on Tumblr by LadyCyprus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[Picset](http://sandy-cleegs.tumblr.com/post/145760054926/i-finally-got-the-first-chapter-of-little-lemon)

 

When Sansa was a girl, she hated messes. Dirty clothes, dirty hands, dirty faces, dirty hair, dirty rooms, dirty mouths, all of it. Her sister Arya used to taunt her about it, threatening to ruin her pristine outfits and her room, which she spent hours cleaning until it was immaculate. Some days she even made good on her word, and would wreak havok just to hear Sansa shrieking in horror as she laid waste to her things or flung food at her across the large oak dinner table. Those days were long gone, and felt like another lifetime ago. She liked to think if she had known what the years would bring, she would have flung the mashed potatoes right back and laughed with Arya until her sides seized. There was no going back now, the family dinner table had been sold at auction, along with Arya's arsenal of silver spoons, after their parent's deaths. Arya was gone too, across the sea, though exactly where she couldn't say. Sansa would sometimes receive postcards with exotic pictures of far off places with a hastily scrawled greeting, but the return address was never the same, and she had given up her attempts at reply long ago, when so many of her meticulously penned letters had come back with an angry red 'Return to Sender' stamped across the front. She used to harbor feelings of resentment and hurt towards her sister for abandoning her, and leaving her alone with their 'uncle.' Those feelings had dissipated over time though, and mostly she just missed the feeling of her family and the love they shared. Her father's warm embrace, her mother brushing her hair until it shimmered, her brother's laughter as they played Monsters and Maidens in the yard, those were the moments that haunted her late at night when sleep was just out of reach. She wasn't an expert, but she thought that perhaps the loss of her family and childhood was what drove her to surround herself with children. It was their unconditional love, and their laughter, and their jokes, and even their messy little faces, that vanquished her sadness and drove her tears away. When they ran to her with dirt on their hands and stains on their clothes, she hugged them tightly to her, never knowing when the day might come that she no longer could. She had learned at least one thing in her life, and that was to cherish what she had before it was lost to her. 

Sansa's mind roamed through the thoughts of her family while she showered and dried her hair. Standing before her closet and pulling out a bright yellow top, she smiled. The first time she had worn this shirt little Thomas had told her she looked like the sun. Wondering if he might remember and tell her again today, she pushed her arms in the sleeves and pulled the fabric over her head. She plucked a black knee length skirt from it's hanger and stepped into it, pulling it up her legs to her hips and securing it with the small side zipper. "Fudge!" she exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder at the bedside clock. Grabbing a pair of plain black flats from the floor, she darted down the hall, struggling to put them on as she went. She swiped her bag and phone from the kitchen counter, and then doubled back to snag a banana, before rushing out the door.

There was never much traffic in the early hours of the morning, which she always enjoyed. She would even leave the radio turned up at the stoplights, singing loudly along with the music. Secretly, her favorites were the love songs and she would belt them out thinking of valiant knights and fair maidens from the old tales. Pulling into the parking lot, she smiled at the sign above her daycare. 'Little Lemon Drops,' it sang in brightly colored letters. Even though she had been running it for almost two years, the idea that it was hers still seemed surreal. She could still feel residual embarrassment from the day she walked into the bank with her hands shaking and dropped all of her loan documents in the lobby. Watching them swirl to the floor while frantically trying to snatch them from the air, she had been tempted to turn around and just walk right back out. She was glad that she didn't though, every time she slid her key into the front door and punched an alarm code in the box beside the wall. Breathing in deeply, she took in the smell of paint, and crayons, and glue. A sweeter smell she couldn't name.  

* * *

Sansa had forgotten that the work she had scheduled was supposed to start today until the easy smiling Bronn had walked in to let her know they would be outside. At first she was unsure about hiring Clegane Construction and Restoration for the job when she had talked to the owner on the phone. He was gruff, slightly rude even, and nothing like the syrupy sweetness of the other places she had called to set up meetings for estimates. He simply told her that he would send Bronn over to take a look and practically hung up on her. She almost hit ignore on his return call the day after she had met with Bronn. In the end it was his frankness that had won her over. He had admitted that he wouldn't be the cheapest, but that their work would be best she could find and he would stand by it. She conceded that the guarantees in their contract were far better than any of the other offers she had received. When he had snapped into the phone for her to fax or email over the paperwork and hung up, she had to remind herself of that. 

"Miss Sansa, I'm scared of storms," a worried little voice said, floating up to her ears, as a small fingers tugged at the fabric of her skirt. 

"A brave man like you?" Sansa replied, picking up the boy and settling him on her hip. "Look, the sun is out, see, no storms today," she said gently, smiling at him and pointing at the sun rays beaming through the window.

"But I hear the thunder," his little voice squeaked, and his hands shot to cover his ears. Sansa laughed sweetly, and pulled one of his hands away. 

"That's not thunder, my sweet, that's men working outside. Come on, I'll show you," she said, and walked to the door of the daycare, despite the uncertainty on the boy's face. Stepping outside, the sun shone brightly, and she had to raise her hand to block it from her eyes. The boy started to fidget when the sounds of hammering started up again. When she rounded the corner, she tickled the boy's arm, "See, silly goose," indicating the man affixing white siding to the building. The boy laughed lightly with her.

"What is he doing?" He asked, pointing to Bronn off to the side.

"He is fitting the panels and cutting wood with that saw," she said, directing his eye to their makeshift work station.

"Oh," he nodded, watching the men work, "they're fixing it like on the movie with the magic hammer?"

"Yes, like Fix-it Felix," she laughed.

"What is he doing?" He asked, pointing to a third man out in the parking lot by their work trucks.

"Gathering supplies, I think," she took in his hulking form lifting the boards from the trailer with ease, his white t-shirt plastered to his back with sweat. The muscles in his arms jumped when he threw the wood to his shoulder, letting his broad back hold the weight of it. Sansa swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry at the sight of the tanned skin of his arms glistening in the sun. When he turned, his face also had a sheen of sweat, though the way it glinted in the light was not from the beads of moisture, but from scars that twisted red and angry over half of his face. 

"Miss Sansa, what happened to that man's face?" The boy in her arms asked curiously, his brow scrunched in thought. "Do you think he fought a dragon?" He asked suddenly, his eyes going wide with excitement and his words rushed. 

"Shh, sweet one, we don't want to hurt his feelings now, do we?" Sansa said gently, patting the boy's leg where it rested in front of her belly. Sensing their eyes, the man glanced quickly in their direction and then away, his long strides moving swiftly across the pavement towards the building. His steps slowed and he looked to them again, his eyes piercing, even in the distance between them. 


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Sansa had locked the daycare and turned to her car, the men had packed away most of their things and left. Admittedly, she had stayed over to work on some small projects in the hopes of avoiding crossing paths with them. She was sure they must think her crazy for the way she turned and scurried back into the building. Heat exhaustion, that's what she would tell them, should they ask. But I was only outside for a moment, she laughed to herself. It was heat exhaustion in truth though, she told herself, thinking back on the scarred man's eyes. The burning intensity of his gaze had made her burst into flame right where she stood. Her heartbeat had thud in her neck, and her stomach had felt queasy. Even after she had sat in the air conditioning gulping down ice water, it had taken several minutes for her body to begin to feel normal once more. She could only recall feeling that way when she had pushed herself too hard for too long while jogging in the sun. I've been attracted to men before, she thought, cranking up the a/c in her car, it's not that. Images of her high school boyfriend swirled in her mind and she shivered at the thought of him. Her subsequent boyfriend had been kind though, but couldn't stand up to the torment of Joffery. She had felt badly for being the tinest bit relieved when she had heard that he had died driving drunk one night. It had needled at her that perhaps she wasn't as good of a person as she had thought. But if she wasn't a good person then what did that make Joffery? A monster, for certain.

* * *

 Scrolling through the dvr she found a rerun of an old design show that had been cancelled. Mostly their work was hideous and she would cringe at the reveal to the unsuspecting homeowners, but sometimes she found herself thinking of ways she might incorporate the idea into her own home. On this particular episode they had covered the inside of the master bedroom in chalkboard paint and let the owner's children scribble and draw all over it. The outcome had been cute, she had to admit, but nowhere near the explicitly stated desire for a tropical getaway that they had requested. She toyed with the idea of painting a wall at Little Lemon Drops with chalkboard paint but decided it would likely be a disaster. All it would take was one child's outburst and a quick brush of a small palm on another's artwork and the whole class would be screeching. Something permanent might work though, she thought, and her mind ran to the yards of white paneling being hung on the outside of the building. 

Lying in bed, her mind churned through the days events and she laughed out loud in the dark at a joke little Maddie had told her. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and with one eye open she read a text from Margaery asking her to come to some bar downtown. Typing a quick decline, she dropped her phone and snuggled deeper into her pillow. The phone screen lit up once more and she was of half the mind to leave it unread until the morning. Sighing, she picked it back up and smiled. 'Lots of cute guys!' was all it said, followed by a slew of emojis. The kissing faces and heart eyes were easy enough to decipher, but the eggplant and water droplets made her eyes roll. She had a good idea what they meant, even if she had never asked outright. Without sending a response she clicked off the screen and turned to her other side. The construction worker's body popped into her mind, and she imagined herself standing alone watching him. Then she was running across the lot to him, his eyes bearing down on her. He dropped all of the heavy boards he was carrying just in time to catch her as she flung herself into his arms. He clutched tightly at her thighs where they had wrapped around his waist, securing herself to him. Folding her arms snuggly around his neck, she kissed him roughly upon his mouth. She groaned into the black of her bedroom when just as his hands began to slide up her legs under her rucked up skirt, her phone started zinging and lighting up in the darkness, pulling her from her fantasy.

* * *

 

 You're being ridiculous, she told herself, and continued to rearrange the toy baskets on their shelf amid a sideways glance from her employee, Shae. 

"I was thinking I might go ask if the children could paint some of the new siding," she said, glancing over and hoping her voice sounded as light and flippant as she had intended.

"They would love that," Shae responded, stirring the little bowls of oatmeal that lined the counter. 

"They would," she stated, stepping back from the shelf of toy bins. "Could you go ask Bronn, the one that came by to do the estimate, if it would be possible?" She asked, trying her best to keep the pleading out of her tone.

"Yes, of course. Is it ok to wait until after breakfast? Oh, and I promised Michael that we would act out story time together. We are reading Goldilocks and the Three Bears and he really wants to play the bears," she said, reaching for a bottle of apple juice to pour into the line of cups. Sansa fought not to feel ashamed for asking more of Shae just because she herself was a coward. I am paying them for the work, she thought, and steeled herself her nerves. 

"I can do it," Sansa clipped, causing Shae to look up from the cups. "Really, you have things to do," she said, hoping to sooth her unintended briskness.

"Are you sure?" Shae asked timidly, looking like she might bolt out the door to ask them straight away.

"Yes, yes, of course," Sansa said with a wave of her hand. "I would probably have to ok it anyway," she said, offering Shae a warm smile. 

The sound of their hammers on the wall matched the pounding in her heart while she paced on the other side. Gathering herself, she held her head high and marched out the door of the daycare before her resolve left her. She spotted Bronn down the sidewalk and made a quick beeline for him. Seeing her fast approach, he quickly shut off the saw.

"Hello," she offered through a strained smile.

"Miss Stark," he said, with an incline of his head and a broad smile.

"I was hoping you might help me with something. I had an idea for the children, I thought they might be able to paint some of the new panels," she said quickly.

"Like scraps?" He asked, and bent towards a bucket of discarded materials.

"No, for the actual building," she said, placing her hand in the air to decline the broken pieces he had started to dig through.

"You'll have to talk to boss about that, anything that might alter your contract," he said, looking in her eye and pulling his empty hand from the bucket.

"Boss?" She asked curiously, and kicked herself for assuming that Bronn was leading the job. 

"Yeah, Clegane," Bronn said, smiling, as a hammer started to sound behind her.

"Oh, right," she laughed. Stupid Sansa, she kicked herself. "I'll just go give him a call," she said, and started to turn. 

"No need, he's playing with your siding right now," Bronn said with a laugh and pointed behind her. Mumbling her thanks, she turned with dread and saw the beast of a man from the previous day. His long arms were stretched to the top of the wall and his fingers were fussing with some piece she couldn't see. Clegane, the brute owner of take me in the parking lot eyes, her mind hummed. She considered walking right past him and forgetting that she ever had this darned idea to begin with. Bronn knows, he will tell him, her mind touted. "Fudge," she whispered under her breath and made her feet walk down the sidewalk. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Clegane," she said, armoring herself in confidence, but his single grunt dismantled it as quickly as she had donned it. His eyes darted to her and his arms dropped to hang at his sides, yet he made no attempt at response. "I was hoping you might have some paneling that the children could paint and could be hung up with the rest," she strained, nervously licking her lips. His close body radiated heat, and his eyes even more so, as they held her gaze, rooting her feet to the ground. His hand lifted towards her head, and her heart beat madly, thinking he meant to brush his fingers across her cheek. Instead, his hand found the siding on the wall behind her and she could hear the groan and scrape of it being torn down in his large paw. If his eyes had ever left her face, she was sure that he would have seen the slight heaving of her chest where her heart fought to break free.

"How many pieces do you need?" His low voice rasped, bringing the siding over her head. The heat was too much, and she thought she may faint from the closeness. He began pulling nails out of the panel with his large fingertips and flicking them into a bucket at his side. Each ping of metal made her throat jump and jolts run through her, as though he were flicking her with his fingers instead. 

"Maybe twenty," she whispered, ashamed at how low and wanton her voice sounded to her ears. The embarrassment was quickly forgotten when he began to snap the long siding into smaller pieces with his big calloused hands. She wondered what it might be like to feel that roughness on her smooth skin, and decided she would no doubt break easily for him as well.


	3. Chapter 3

[Picset](http://sandy-cleegs.tumblr.com/post/146284308481/finally-got-around-to-making-a-picset-for-chapter)

 

"You have to Google him," Margaery said, eyes flashing mischievously.

"What?" Sansa asked in a worried tone, afraid that she had heard her friend correctly.

"Google him," Margaery said again, already pulling out her phone. "I'll just do it," she quickly typed in her passcode, "Is it spelled with an E or an O?"

"Oh my god, Margaery, no, you can't!" Sansa shrieked, afraid that somehow out in the world he would know that she had been looking into him.

"Oh, too late, honey," Margaery said, flashing a smile, "because I already did. If you didn't want me to, you really should have said so," she laughed, and swatted away the pinch of bread that Sansa had flicked at her. 

"Well, what does it say?" Sansa practically begged, when Margaery started humming curiously and raising an eyebrow at her phone screen.

"Oh, there is a company facebook page, but it doesn't look like he runs it, all the posts are signed by someone named Bronn," she said, tapping away at the screen.

"That's the man that did my estimate," Sansa said, nodding her head.

"Most of the pictures are of their work," Margaery said, not looking up from her phone. "Boring. Boring. Boring. At least they have good reviews," she said, swiping across the screen with her index finger. She began typing again with a serious look on her face until she lit up brighter than the LED, "Gotcha!" She exclaimed loudly, looking across the table at Sansa, "He has..." she paused for a dramatic effect, turning her phone around and finishing in a low voice, "an Instagram." 

"Really?" Sansa asked, trying to grab the phone, but Margaery pulled it away.

"Yes, two of these pictures were on their facebook page. It doesn't look like he has any pictures of himself, or anyone, actually," she said lazily scrolling with her fingertip. "There are a few pictures of a horse, and some boring outdoorsy stuff. Look, here is a bunch of grass that he just _had_ to capture," she said, rolling her eyes and turning her phone to show Sansa an image of a field at sunset. It wasn't necessarily artistic, but it did look pretty with the warm red and orange hues taking up half the frame. "That was his newest, posted one day ago," Margaery said, pulling her phone back and making a few quick taps on the screen. "And this one was two weeks ago," she said, extending her arm to show a picture of a black horse with a carrot sticking out of its mouth. Sansa laughed at the image of the horse. If an animal could have a look, this one had disdain written all over its features. She was still studying the picture when it was pulled back from her. Margaery was tapping and scrolling again while Sansa sat smiling expectantly, the vision of the horse still fresh in her mind. "It's just a lot of the same," she said, scrunching up her face in disappointment. "No wonder he only has ten followers," she finished, clicking off the screen and laying the phone on the table. 

"Well, not everyone wants to post selfies in low cut tops," Sansa said, taking a sip from her wine glass and smiling coyly at her friend.

"At least people want to look at my selfies," Margaery said, with false haughtiness.

"You're right," Sansa said with a laugh. 

"Oh, say it again, I don't hear that nearly enough," Margaery said with a laugh.

"What? That you like to post half nude selfies?" Sansa asked innocently, with rounded eyes, earning her a bit of bread catapulted into her lap.

"We have to change all your profile pics!" Margaery exclaimed suddenly, her hand shooting to grip Sansa's with an overwhelming seriousness.

"What, why?" Sansa asked, confusion coloring her face.

"Do you think I'm the only one that knows how to google? Trust me, we need to change them," Margaery said sternly. 

"But I like my picture!" Sansa said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

"Oh, honey, I do too, but let's face it, that little kid clinging to you isn't really screaming 'Ask me out!' or 'Let's have a quickie in the parking lot!'" Margaery said with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing look.

Fine," Sansa said in a huff, and pulled out her phone. After scrolling for a moment, her head shot up and she asked excitedly, "What about the one at the fair?" 

"The one where you have mustard on your cheek?" Margaery asked in disbelief. 

"Well, ok, maybe not that one," Sansa said, returning to her phone with her brow furrowed in concentration. 

"Aw, look at that cute baby over there!" Margaery suddenly exclaimed, pointing across the restaurant. Sansa's head shot up and she smiled, looking out into the sea of diners. "He has a super cute puppy with him!" Sansa's eyes darted back and forth over the tables but couldn't find the one in question. When she turned back, she saw Margaery with her phone out, snapping pictures of her. 

"You little rat!" Sansa said with a laugh, bringing her hand to her cheek as Margaery continued tapping the screen with her thumb.

"Pick up your wine glass, give me 'I'm a sultry adult woman, let's make out at the movies,'" Margaery said with a laugh. Sansa giggled at her friend with her head resting in her palm. "Oh, that's perfect San. Just the right mix," Margaery said, smiling broadly. With a few quick taps Sansa's phone was zinging in her other hand, full of new pictures. Opening the message and looking through them, she decided that Marge was right, and the last one was the best. Her cheeks held a wine glow and her eyes sparkled in a way that was only achieved by being with a close friend. After a few moments, she had set all of her profile pics to the new one. "Now," Margaery said, eyeing Sansa across the table, "you have to go like his company facebook page. Maybe even leave a comment." She held up a finger to stop Sansa's reply. "He may not moderate it, but that doesn't mean that he never checks it," she said with an air of seriousness.

"I thought we were letting him Google me?" Sansa asked, shaking her head with a laugh.

"Oh, you sweet summer child, that doesn't mean we can't help him along!" Margaery trilled, her eyes dancing with excitement.

* * *

 Sansa smiled at the picture of the horse that he had posted two weeks ago, it really is a beautiful creature, she thought. Once home from dinner and in the quiet darkness of her room, she couldn't resist pulling up his Instagram to look for herself. Margaery had been right, mostly it was pictures of nature, with a few of the horse. Far down the page was an image from 108 weeks ago of a glass and a bottle of whiskey, which even had a comment. 'Share with me?' it said, with a heart eyes face emoji. Frowning, she clicked the commenter. Her profile was private but squinting at her picture, Sansa could make out a smiling, tan blond and felt a pang of jealousy run through her. Clicking off her phone, she dropped it to the bedside table. You're truly ridiculous, she huffed into the pillow a few moments later when she could still feel swirls of the emotion within her.

* * *

Sansa walked barefoot in the grass surrounding the playground, picking up discarded toys and placing them into the bucket at her side. As much as she loved being with the children and talking to them, it irked her that they still hadn't quite mastered the art of cleaning up after themselves. Normally, she would stand outside directing them to the ones they had forgotten but she had missed the second half of the day due to appointments and Shae wasn't nearly as concerned about tidiness. She could have just gone home after her meetings and started her weekend a few hours early, but truthfully she was yearning for the closeness of the children. One meeting had taken her to the social services office where she had to give a statement on the bruising she had seen on Allison. It had broken her heart to admit that the girl often showed up in dirty, well worn clothes, sporting marks of varying shades and ages. The girl was nothing but skin and bones and would scarf down anything put in front of her. On Fridays, Sansa would put together a pack of snacks for her and hide them in the bottom of her backpack, telling the girl that it was their little secret. It was the thought of Allison peeking in her bag for food that Shae didn't know to leave that had made her drive like a maniac to get back to the daycare just before the children left. Sansa tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat when she had briskly walked through the door and told Allison that she needed her help in the other room, causing the girl smile timidly. In the small kitchen, she had rushed to throw some food into ziplocs before the parents started arriving. After she had nestled the snacks into the backpack, the girl had whipped around and told her that she had known she wouldn't forget her. Allison's skinny arms around her were like a vice grip, though Sansa knew that wasn't the reason she had felt so choked for air. 

Sansa spotted a ball on the other side of the fence, tucked against the makeshift workstation of Clegane's men. Sighing, she walked to the side gate to let herself out, the short, plush grass tickling the bottoms of her feet. The old iron gate groaned under the movement as she swung it open and stepped out onto the hot concrete. She had a hard time believing that Shae hadn't noticed when the ball went sailing over the fence in the first place. Tiptoeing up the sidewalk to the ball, she swiped it from its hiding place and dropped it into the quickly filling bucket of toys. A loud, roaring truck engine pulling up in a spot behind had her jumping out of her skin. With a hand on her heart she turned and saw Clegane, lover of nature, putting the black work truck in park and twisting the key from the ignition. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she attempted to scurry back to the playground before he stepped out, forcing her to be alone with him. A quick twist of sharp pain in the bottom of her foot brought her crashing down to the sidewalk on her hands and knees, amid her howling. Various toys flew from her bucket, bouncing and rolling out around her. "Fudge!" She shrieked, her knees burning, and her foot throbbing. A deep rasping laugh made her head whip up and her eyes narrow. "Something funny?" She asked bitingly, reaching down to probe at her heel, her fingers coming away lightly smeared with blood.

"You're hurt," he rasped, crouching down to run his fingertips over her foot. "Fucking hell, idiots can't even get the nails in the bucket. Can you stand?" He asked, his low voice making her shiver.

"I think so," she said, pulling her untouched foot beneath her to the sidewalk. God, this was not how she had imagined being on her hands and knees before him. Putting weight on her foot, she tried to balance herself with her palms before standing upright. She winced as she worked her knee, and noticed that it had blood on it too. Grunting slightly, she attempted to walk her hands up off the concrete and put some weight on the toes of her injured foot. A strangled gasp ripped from her throat at the sharp pain of the injured skin being stretched, and her arms shot out wildly in front of her as she fell back to the ground. Within an instant, she felt his hands pulling at her waist like she were a rag doll, and suspending her in the air. This would have been exactly what she wanted, had she not been bleeding in multiple places and donning a crown of embarrassment.

"Whoa, now," he rasped behind her, "no flying," he chuckled, and she felt her face flame. Self-consciously she looked at her arms where they were still splayed out in front of her ready to absorb the impact and pulled them close to her chest. "Where is your first aid kit?" He asked, but before she could respond he was flipping her back and up into his arms. If she thought that she had reached the pinnacle of her embarrassment, she was sorely mistaken. God, he's tall, she thought, looking around as his feet started to move towards the playground gate. "Well?" She felt the one word rumble against her side, distracting her so sweetly from the thin trickle of blood that was making its way down her calf. 

"On the wall outside the bathroom," she squeaked, trying not to fixate on the feel of his rough fingers on the bare skin just above her knee. He grunted in acknowledgment and kicked the gate open wide with the toe of his boot, moving across the grass in long strides. Reaching the back door, he jostled her to his chest to open it, and her palm landed flat against him. She could feel the coarse curls of hair trapped under his t-shirt and almost started rubbing her palm against him. Get a grip, Sansa, she mentally kicked herself, he is just a man. Just a man, just a man, she chanted to herself, while her traitorous mind started to flash images of what he might look like shirtless with a nice even coat of dark hair covering his chest and stomach. When she groaned in frustration at the thought, he assumed it was driven by pain, and told her he would patch up her holes. If he only knew, she thought, chuckling out loud, and earning herself a confused smirk from him. 

"Don't try to fly while I'm gone now," he rasped, placing her gently in a kitchen chair and propping her foot up in another.

"Yes, sir!" She said with a laugh, and gave him a small salute. He cocked his one eyebrow at her and with a small shake of his head, left in search of the first aid kit. "Oh my god," she whispered to herself, and brought her hands to cover her face, "I am an idiot." Mortification settled in her face, burning against her scratched up palms. She thought about all the different exits she could take to flee, and then remembered that she would also have to grab her purse and keys from the office. Maybe I could hide until he gave up and left? She peeked at the cabinets lining the walls but was pretty sure that none of them would be big enough to fit her. The pantry closet, though it was big enough, was standing room only, and she seriously doubted that she could stand long enough for him to go. She was studying the dimensions of the grate on the large a/c vent when he came back into the kitchen carrying the large first aid kit and plopping it down onto the table. "Did you just rip that off the wall?" She asked in disbelief, her eyes wide.

"Couldn't decide what to grab," he said with a shrug, his fingertips plucking through the various compartments. His hand stilled when she made no reply, his eyes darting quickly to her owlish face. "Oh, bloody hell, I fix things for a living," he rasped, "I can put it back up."

"Right," she said with a shaky laugh. Of course he could, stupid Sansa. She watched him pull out several antiseptic wipes, gauze, tape, band-aids, antibacterial cream, scissors, some sort of spray, and other things that she was pretty sure he wouldn't need. Satisfied with the assortment, he lifted her leg and slid into the chair, resting her foot on his thigh. For a moment she panicked that he might be able to see up her skirt, until she heard Margaery's voice saying, "Oh, honey, let him look. Unless you have on period panties." A bubble of laughter passed her lips, causing his eyes to dart to her and then away with the slight shake of his head. He must truly think I'm insane, she thought, while looking anywhere but at him and rubbing her fingertips on her temple. She sucked in a breath when she felt the cool tingle of an alcohol wipe on her foot and instinctively tried to jerk away, but he was too quick and caught her ankle, anchoring her in place.

"Don't move," he said, pushing the little towelette around her heel. Suddenly there was a pinch and a sting and he was tossing the wipe and nail onto the table. He grabbed a new wipe, opening it with his teeth, and spitting the wrapper out next to the dirty one. "Doesn't look very deep, you must just be a bleeder," he rasped, dabbing at the wound and inspecting the tissue with the wipe. 

"Yeah, I have a scar on my forehead where my sister ran into me and her tooth broke the skin. There was blood everywhere," she said, pushing her hair away to show the tiniest faint silver line. He snorted and shook his head. 

"That's a hideous facial scar, I'm surprised you manage to leave the house," he rasped, reaching for the gauze. 

"I,I didn't mean," she said, placing her hand on his, and kicking herself, "I'm sorry, I wasn't implying anything," she tried, tightening her hand around his fingers, and catching his eye with her own. 

"It's fine," he said a few heartbeats later, and pulled his hand from her, taking the gauze with him and dropping it into his lap. Snatching the tape from the table, he began to unwind it. Once he had secured the gauze to her foot by wrapping so much tape around it that she looked like a pro boxer, he began wiping at the now dried blood on her leg. Her heart started to hammer like he was hanging siding, and she his instrument, the higher up his hand went. When his large fingers came to rest in the bend of her knee, she was sure that he would be able to hear her pants, and had to bring her hand to her mouth just to be sure her tongue wasn't lolling out. She thought she felt his fingertips lightly stroking her skin, but suddenly he was letting go and pushing her foot from his lap. "Let's see the other one," he rasped, clearing his throat, and throwing the wipe on the table with the others. He ran his hands down the front of his jean clad thighs before grabbing her other leg and opening a new wipe. This knee wasn't nearly as bad, and his ministrations were over quickly. Too quickly, Sansa thought. "Maybe wear shoes next time," he rasped gruffly, lightly placing her foot back on the floor. 

"Yeah, I'm just lucky that you were here," she said, giving him a warm smile.

"Or unlucky, seeing as we put the nail there in the first place," he rasped with a chuckle. "Need anything else?" 

"Oh god, a stiff drink," she said without a thought, but his eyes lit up at her words.

"Yeah? There's a bar right down the street," he said, almost bashfully, as though he hadn't meant to say it but the words were already coming out. He stood suddenly and plucked the trash from the table, depositing it in the waste bin. 

"Really? Do you want to go?" She asked his back, afraid that her voice was coming out too high and desperate.

"I was thinking about stopping there anyway after I picked up the equipment these sods left out," he said nonchalantly, while walking back to the table, "but I wouldn't say no to the company. Besides, I figure I owe you at least one drink," nodding to her foot, and gathering up the remaining supplies.

"Let me grab my shoes," she said, shooting from the chair, but then catching herself on the table. 

"Good, I'm not pulling broken glass out of the other one tonight," he rasped, walking out of the kitchen with the kit under his arm. 

Rushing to her office and pulling her phone from her bag, she shot a quick text to Margaery, grinning like an idiot the whole time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to AdultOrphan for letting me pester her all day with ideas, brainstorming, and giving me excellent advice! Thanks for the swift kick in the pants! :D

"You didn't tell me it's a karaoke bar!" Sansa exclaimed, smiling widely, while her eyes darted from Clegane to the bright neon sign and back again. He shrugged and grunted, scanning the lot for a space. 

"Didn't think it mattered, the whiskey will still be the same proof," he said, pulling into a spot diagonal to the entrance and shutting off the engine.

"Of course it matters!" Sansa said excitedly, her hands clasped together in front of her chest.

"We can leave-" he started, placing the key back in the ignition.

"What? No!" She rushed, and pulled his hand away from the steering column. "We have to sing now, the Red God demands it!" She laughed, pointing to the neon sign touting Red God Karaoke on the building. 

"I'm not singing, but you can chirp all you want," he rasped, pulling at his seatbelt.

Sansa slid out of the truck and walked stiffly to the other side before he had stepped out. She had heard about this place but she and Margaery had yet to seek it out, preferring to stick to the Hole in the Wall and the comfort of its laid back atmosphere. This place already appeared much flashier than a karaoke bar had a right to be, with a large red awning and a bright gold door. Glancing at Clegane as they made their way to the entrance, she wondered how a man like him would ever think about coming here. He stepped forward and pulled the door open, gesturing for her to go in. The interior looked like the set of bad 70's porno, with hideous red fabric draped over the walls and large circular couches covered in velvet dotting the room. A part of her could appreciate the aesthetic that the designer had envisioned, no doubt aspiring for a posh nighclub, but somehow they had missed the mark completely.

"Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?" Clegane asked, forcing her overstimulated eyes to turn to him.

"Table," she answered at once, relieved that sex couch hadn't been an option. Even in the dim candlabra light she could make out stains on the material. With a grunt he began walking to a small high top off to the side of the room. Sansa cringed inwardly at the stickiness of the concrete floor that threatened to slip off her flats and keep them as part of the decor. Clegane plopped down into one of the high bar stools at the table, his boots still firmly planted to the floor as a testament to his long limbs. 

"Not fancy enough for you?" Clegane asked, a hint of mock in his tone, when he saw her look of distaste at having to practically rip her soles from the floor to take a seat opposite him.

"I wouldn't say that, it looks pretty fancy," she quipped back, eyes floating to the garish material on the wall, complete with speckles of spilled drinks that had dried. He rumbled a deep jarring laugh that would have undoubtedly shook the table, had it not been fastened to the floor with the sugar of endless upturned cocktails.

"What drink will you be adding to this mess?" He asked with a wave of his hand towards the wall.

"Hm," she hummed, tapping her finger against her cheek and tilting her head as though studying a serious work of art. "Bourbon and coke," she said, with a firm nod of her head.

"Wise choice," he rasped evenly, leaning slightly forward conspiratorially, and rapping his knuckles on the table before standing to go to the bar.

"Oh, wait," she said suddenly, digging into her purse, but when she glanced up, wallet in hand, he was already walking away. 

The tip of Sansa's shoes tapped nervously against the floor where the height of the stool held her legs in suspension. She tried placing her feet on the rungs of the seat but found it to be uncomfortable with the bandage on her foot. Looking around the room, she saw it was mostly empty, save a few at the bar. It was still early in the evening, though, and if the state of the place was any indication, it did get its fair share of business. The stage was appropriately obscene, with spotlights and bedazzled mics. A little disco ball hung from the ceiling, and what appeared to be a small smoke machine sat off to the side. She laughed at the image of Clegane, master of the caveman language, standing up there belting out a pop anthem into a flashy mic.

"Something funny?" A deep voice rasped, causing the remnants of her smile to catch as she turned to face him. At first she thought he hadn't brought her a drink until she realized that his fingers, curled around the glass, obstructed it from her view. 

"This," she said, with a wave of her hand, to which he shrugged in reaponse, heaving himself uncerimouniously onto his stool once more. She murmured her thanks at the drink that was pushed towards her from his hand. "It's all so..." She searched for a word that would adequately describe the circus before her eyes. 

"Just wait til you see the owner," he said, arching his one brow, before taking a healthy drink of the amber liquid in his glass.

"The owner? So you've been here before?" Sansa gasped, not sure her mind was processing his words correctly.

"A couple of times, used to know a bartender here. Don't work here anymore, but 'support small businesses' and all that shit," he said with a shrug. 

"Well, here's to all that sh... stuff!" She said with a laugh and a raise of her glass, her tongue turning craven at the last moment. 

"To all that shstuff," he mocked, clinking his glass against hers. 

* * *

Fumbling with her phone, Sansa typed a quick text back to Margaery and placed it back in her bag. Her limbs felt heavy and light at the same time, and she was pretty sure that she had been fixing her hair in the ladies room mirror for far longer than necessary. A muffled ding caught her attention and she pulled her phone back out, laughing at the message to 'Go get him!' followed by a kissing face, and dropped it back in her purse without a response. Finally satisfied with the long red tresses that hung over her shoulders, she fished a tube of lip gloss out of her bag and applied it. Laughing, she blew a kiss to herself in the mirror and exited the ladies. 

Bodies milled around her in every direction as she made her way back to the little table and she could see Clegane, no,  _Sandor_ , hunched over it, toying with his glass. The karaoke stage had livened up and several people had already put in their songs and begun to sing. With as much bounce in her step that she could manage, she made her way to put in her song and then back to the table.

"So, you didn't drown," he rasped, looking up from his glass at her reappearance. 

"Are you disappointed?" She asked with a cocked eyebrow and a laugh, while taking up her seat. 

"No, too much paperwork," he deadpanned, giving up a slight shrug at her mock gasp.

"You're awful," she admonished, with an amused shake of her head.

"I'm honest, it's the world that's awful. Do you know how many times I would have to say she just went to the ladies?" When she laughed, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly with what she thought was a hint of a hidden smile. She wasn't sure if it was the drinks, or the lighting, or his company, but his scars were starting to grow less visible to her eyes. Her mind knew they were there, and when she forced herself to look at them specifically, there was no denying their existence, but sitting across from him, learning more about him minute by minute, they seemed to fade like the wisps of a dream upon waking. If anything, his mercurial eyes stood out more to her than his scars, though they had started to grow darker with each drop of liquid that passed his lips. She realized she must have stared just a moment too long when his mood darkened just the same, his face becoming stone before her. Her fingertips nervously brushed the back of his hand where it sat curled around his glass, but her words were lost in loud applause when she opened her mouth to speak. A startling cool voice swept out over the speakers, causing Sansa to glance back over her shoulder to the stage. 

"The owner," she heard Sandor say behind her as she watched a woman clad in all red move fluidly to the center of the stage with long bright red hair cascading all around her.

"Welcome back into the embrace of the Red God, may we cast our light upon you. The king's bloody marys are on special, and remember, the night is dark and full of tenors," she said with a slight lilting accent that Sansa couldn't place. When Sansa glanced at Sandor, he let loose a rumbling laugh at the confusion that must have been etched upon her face.

"What is this place?" Sansa gasped, shaking her head, trying to make sense of it all.

"Just some bar," Sandor snorted.

"Do you come here a lot?" She asked, fearing the answer, as she peered around at the clientele that had poured in and taken up on the couches, at the tables and in the handful of booths.

"No, I don't drink anymore," he said, punctuating his words with a deep pull from his glass. She laughed, but it soon died out when she realized he was actually being serious. "Special occasion," he stated with a small shrug.

"Which is?" Sansa tentatively asked, afraid he was about to make some sorry pick up line.

"Birthday," he murmured so lowly that for a moment she thought she had misheard him. 

"Truly? It's your birthday?" Sansa asked with a smile.

"Unfortunately," he mumbled, his eyes darting to his glass, just as her name was called over the speaker.

Sansa stood, wobbling slightly, and made her way to the stage. At the last moment she walked to the jockey's booth in an attempt to change her song. The jockey was handsome, and she smiled brightly at him, in hopes of getting her way, but the way he leered at her afterward made her slightly uneasy. Taking the stage, she pulled a bejeweled mic from its stand and tapped it with a finger. On the screens around the room she saw her name flash with 'Birthday-Katy Perry' attached, and looked to Sandor to see if he might be watching. When they locked eyes she shot him a quick smile, yet he sat immobile at their table, not even attempting to reciprocate. Her nerves started to tingle and her voice quavered slightly on the opening lines but as the beat went on and the alcohol performed its due diligence, her uneasiness settled. She tried her very best to look anywhere but at Sandor, despite her last minute song change with him in mind, since he seemed so unwilling to give her any sort of support. When her gaze drifted back to him she saw his posture had changed, that he sat straight up on his seat, head and shoulders above everyone else, and an almost feral look had taken over his features. For a moment she forgot that she was singing, breathily saying "Happy Birthday, Sandor," into the mic. Luckily, it was at just the right point in the song that it fit in and nothing seemed misplaced. As the last bars of the song came and went, she clipped her mic back to the stand and walked off the stage amid drunken applause. She could feel his eyes upon her, pulling her like a magnet back to her seat, despite the sea of bodies that impeded her view. 

"It could be my birthday," a boy with light hair and a white smile said, jumping from a booth to stand in front of her. 

"Oh, Happy Birthday," she said, not meeting his eye and craning her head around him.

"Sing a birthday song for me, beautiful," the boy said, his touch on her arm making her jump. 

"Maybe later," she tried, giving him a smile and pulling her arm from his fingers. 

"Let's sing a song together," he said, grabbing her hand to pull her to the song booth. Her eyes went wide as a large hand curled around the boy's shoulder. 

"She said maybe later," a deep voice rasped behind the boy, causing his hold upon her to slacken, before disappearing altogether. The boy, whom Sansa thought was not long past his 21st birthday and eerily reminded her of Joffery, spun around to face the voice that was unknown to him. 

"And who the fuck are you?" He squealed, trying desperately to hold on to some semblance of manhood.

"Her duet partner," Sandor rasped, stepping closer to the boy, forcing him to look up into his face. After a few tense moments, the boy ripped his glass from the table and stalked off to the bar.  

* * *

"I think you hurt his feelings. He keeps looking over here," Sansa said with a laugh, her leg stretched under the boy's vacated booth with her foot perched on Sandor's thigh. 

"He'll find someone else to sing with," he replied with a dark smirk, his fingertips idly rubbing indistinct patterns on the top of her foot. 

"Are you really going to sing with me?" Sansa asked, remembering his words and forgetting the boy. 

"Depends on the song you have in mind," Sandor rasped sardonically, raising his glass to his lips.

"Well, what kind of music do you like?" She asked earnestly, ticking off in her mind any rock or country songs she might be able to stumble through. His deep, rumbling laugh caught her off guard and with a slight shake of his head he took a drink. 

* * *

She wasn't exactly sure when he had started calling her 'little bird,' only that he whispered it now, against her neck, as he peppered her skin with quick heated kisses. Her head tipped back onto the seat, and through her half lidded eyes she could see their Uber driver trying not to stare in his rearview.

"Sandor," she sighed, rubbing his shoulder, to no response. "Sandor," she tried again, shaking him gently, but he only nipped her delicate skin with his teeth. "Perhaps we should wait until we get to my place," she said sweetly, cupping his face with her palms. Sliding her hands down to his chest, she slowly pushed him back to sitting position and then took his hand in both of hers, resting it in her lap. 

"I have a confession," he rasped, leaning over to whisper in her ear, the ghost of his breath causing her skin to prickle. With small movements he withdrew his hand from hers and placed it on her bare knee. "When I bandaged your foot, I looked up your skirt, like a filthy cur."

"Oh?" She gulped down air as his fingers started trailing steadily under her skirt and up her thigh, leaving her nerves trembling in his wake. 

"I saw these little blue things you have on," he whispered, the tips of his long fingers grazing against the slick fabric that covered her, "and all I could think about was kneeling before you and ripping them off with my teeth."

Before she could respond, he was extricating his hand and smoothing her skirt down over her legs, to her aching disappointment. Biting her lip, she wondered if the Uber driver would give her a higher or lower rating if she forced Sandor to make good on his word in the backseat. 

* * *

His kiss seared her mouth more than the whiskey, and made her skin tingle just the same. The alcohol rushed through her veins mixing with her blood, and her endorphins, and the scent of him. A whimper escaped her throat at his hand fisting in her hair and his teeth biting at her lips. She was far from an expert on kisses, but she knew this was  _not_ how good boys kissed. He isn't a boy, her mind chided her, a small smile gracing her lips. No, he certainly isn't, she thought, and ran her hands up the hardness of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, and the thickness of his neck. Most definitely not a boy, her head yelled through her drunken haze, when his free hand roughly kneaded at her ass. 

This is it then, tomorrow I will no longer be a virgin. It had been so long since the opportunity had arose to rid herself of the title that she had nearly forgotten about it. She had pushed it far back into her mind, locked it away in a place where she kept all of her useless thoughts of things that no longer mattered. It would seem she had chosen wisely, he was no stranger to the act, if his movements were any indication. She hoped that she wouldn't disgrace herself and would be okay enough at it, at least. 

"Do you have any condoms?" He rasped heatedly against her mouth, punctuating his question with a quick suck on her bottom lip.  

"N-no," she said breathily, barely registering the question while attempting to recapture his mouth. 

"Are you on something then?" he rasped, pulling her back gently by her hair.

"On something?" She asked, her brow wrinkling at the oddity of his words. Was she acting too bizarre and he thought her on drugs? As if she would ever do that! Some of the children were fosters, wards of the state, she would never be allowed near them!

"What do you normally use?" His tone turned gruff, as though he were irritated at her, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Was he on drugs and he wanted some from her? She started to panic at the thought. What have I done? I've let a, a miscreant into my apartment, into my bedroom!

"Nothing," she said, taking a step back from him and swallowing nervously, her eyes darting to the bedroom door. I could run, she thought, but then he would be alone in my room.

"Nothing?" He barked, quickly releasing his hand from her hair. "When was the last time you were tested?" His eyes turned glaring and she fought not to flinch.

"Tested? For drugs?" She tried, inching slowly to the door, cursing herself for not keeping on her shoes in her drunken state.

"Who said anything about drugs?" He spat, his annoyance quickly blooming into full blown ire. "I'm talking about STD's."

"Oh," she laughed, cursing her inexperience, her feet halting their path, "Never, I've never done that." she bit her lip to keep from laughing more to hide her embarrassment. 

"You don't use anything and you've never been tested? I should have known this was a bloody mistake," he barked, marching past her to the door and roughly swinging it open, causing the hinges to moan under his hand in a mockery of her.

"Wait! Where are you going?" She rushed after him, watching him swipe his keys from the counter and then double back to take a hard pull from the half empty whiskey bottle they had left on the counter.

"Where am I going? Away from the beautiful siren attempting to wreck me on the rocks. I've had enough of that for one lifetime," he rasped harshly, turning his back to her.

"I didn't understand! Please don't go, I've never been tested because I've never had a reason to be," she finished in a whisper, watching his hand still on the doorknob. 

"Now you mean to tell me that you're a bloody virgin?" He said, his eyes darting over his shoulder. "You expect me to believe that? After you kissed me like that and rubbed your body so sweetly against me?" He scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. "Is that your favorite song to sing?"

"It's the truth! I, I've kissed before, and have felt a man over his clothes, but..." her words trailed off at his laughter, and she felt her cheeks redden painfully beneath their whiskey flushed hue. He walked quickly to her and grabbed her waist, pulling her tightly against him. His lips crushed brutally upon hers, causing her to yelp at the harshness. Her body was pushed back from him, his hand capturing her wrist as though he thought to force her hand to him but deciding against it.   

"That's all you've done, little bird?" He rasped, his eyes shouting 'liar' at her so loudly that her gaze darted to his mouth, expecting to see the words forming on his lips. 

"Yes," she said, wrenching herself free from his grasp, her anger dwarfing her alcohol haze. For a heartbeat he stood unmoving, the exposed muscle in his jaw twitching and pulling at his mouth. 

"You didn't think to tell me? Instead let me grope and gnaw at you like a boy having a wet dream?" He rasped, his brow furrowed and guilt flashing in his eyes. 

"You should leave," she said evenly, her lip beginning to tremble defiantly to spite her attempt at steely strength. Without a word he turned from her and walked back to the door, sliding the deadbolt open and stepping out into the night. She thought she saw him quickly glimpse back, his head hanging in shame, but in the next moment he was gone.

Closing the door and locking it back, she leaned heavily against it trying to piece together the jumbled flashes of her memory and the countless number of drinks that had caused the night to end in a fantastic disaster. 


End file.
